Beijing Comrades (28 page)

Thirty-Three

The six-day workweek was being phased out as the new two-day weekend calendar gradually went into effect. One Sunday morning on a two-day weekend, I was deep in sleep when I felt the vague sensation of two hands gliding up and down the length of my body. Alternating between upper and lower halves, they paused periodically to jerk at my dick and tug at my balls. That little brat! I thought, suppressing a smile and feigning sleep to see what would happen next.

The little brat—Lan Yu, of course—kissed my chest, then twisted one nipple between his thumb and forefinger while gently biting at the other. Then he abruptly pulled away. I could tell by the roaming vibrations of his warm breath against my skin that he was moving downward. When I felt the flicker of his tongue against my still-flaccid cock, I couldn't take it anymore.

“What are you doing?” I burst out laughing as he jumped on top of me.

“It just occurred to me, I've never given you a proper inspection!” he said.

“Inspection of
what
?” I laughed. “I'm not one of your building designs, you know.”

“I was just thinking it's weird how our dicks are basically the same size when soft, but yours is a little bigger when hard.”

“Excuse me, but mine is bigger soft, too!”

“No it isn't!”

“If you don't believe me, go get a ruler.”

To my amusement and surprise, Lan Yu actually got up from bed to go look for a ruler. But by the time he came back, I had already changed the rules of the game.

“Hey!” he protested, pointing at my erection with an injured expression on his face. “That doesn't count—that's cheating!”

Jumping up from bed, I threw two pillows against the headboard, then pushed Lan Yu back gently so he would sit upright. I loved the way it made the skin and muscle of his stomach bunch up into sexy little folds.

“If mine's too hard, then let me measure yours!” I laughed. “But not with that.” I grabbed the ruler from his hand and threw it onto the floor.

Lan Yu's eyes widened. “What are you going to measure it with?”

“Mouth ruler,” I said nonchalantly. He laughed. That sweet, beautiful laugh. The laugh that was part of what made me fall in love with him.

My lips trekked the length of his body, kissing every spot along the way until I arrived at his waist. Lan Yu entered my mouth, pushing into the back of my throat and making me reel with that familiar intoxication. I was so in love! Nothing could release me from the viselike grip he held me in, body and soul.

With Lan Yu's cock still in my mouth, I looked up at him, consumed by the desire to make him mine. I reached up and
gripped his chin. “Do you love me?” I asked, as his swollen dick slipped out from between my lips. He said nothing in reply, so I tightened my grasp. Frowning and twisting his head from side to side, he pried the offending fingers away. He knew I was waiting for an answer, he knew the words I wanted to hear. I knew something too—that he wasn't going to say it. My eyes filled with tears. I moved up higher until we were face-to-face and drilled my eyes into his. My stare excited him, yet he remained quiet.

I repeated the question. “Do you love me?” He nodded vigorously and I couldn't bear it anymore.

“Say it!” I shouted. “I want to hear you say it!”

Silence. Cruel, agonizing silence.

“I love you, Lan Yu!
I love you
! Don't you fucking get it?” I grabbed his chin again, utterly defeated by his refusal to say what I so desperately needed to hear. Gently, he pushed my hand away and smiled.

Fuck! It was times like these that I hated his smile. Ever since we had gotten back together, it was precisely that smile, so detached, so indifferent, that made me completely unable to gauge his feelings for me. I knew he wouldn't say he loved me if it wasn't true. But it is true, I told myself again and again. So why did I have to force it out of him?

I fell into his arms and we held each other, kissing feverishly until I made my way back to his cock, which I again took into my mouth. Just as he was about to climax, he called out my name:

“Handong!”

I held his cock tightly in my mouth, and he moaned loudly as a surge of warm liquid filled the back of my throat. It was the first time I had ever let someone come in my mouth, let alone swallowed.

Lan Yu was appalled that I had swallowed his cum. “What did you do that for?” he asked in horror.

“Why not?” I replied. “It's good for you. Full of nutrients.” I scooped the excess off his belly with a finger and moved it toward his lips.

“Ack!” he cried, shaking his head wildly to dodge it. But he wasn't fast enough, and before he knew it, I smeared a fat, drippy glob of his own semen onto his upper lip. He scowled.

“It tastes like . . .
milk
,” he said, as the white mustache dribbled onto his lower lip. “Milk mixed with . . . I don't know . . . fish soup?” We both laughed.

I crawled back up to him and gave him a sloppy, wet kiss on the lips. Then we jumped up from bed, racing to the bathroom to see who could get into the shower first.

The mantra I told myself in those days was: Things with Lan Yu are good. They're comfortable. Don't overthink it. But the reality was that even if I'd wanted to overthink it, I wouldn't have been able to. The monumental task of rebuilding my career left me little time to think about anything else.

Truth be told, things in that arena weren't going as well as I'd been hoping. In business, getting ahead usually meant one of two things: kissing ass or screwing the people around you. I wasn't good at either.

One Monday morning, I had barely stepped into the office when I got a phone call. It was the last person I had expected to hear from: my ex-wife.

“Lin Ping!” I hollered into the phone. “What's going on? How ya doin'?” I didn't think this woman could be calling with good intentions, but I received her call with courtesy anyway. There was no need to make her lose face.

“Just fine, doing good!” she exclaimed. “Hey, listen, Handong.
I want to ask you something. I've got two hospitals—one in Shanghai, one in Guangzhou—that want to import $8 million worth of medical equipment. They've already allocated funds for it. They just need someone with business connections outside China to get it done. Are you interested?”

I couldn't believe my ears. “Look at you!” I said with a laugh. “You're in business now? I'm impressed!”

“Yes I am, and I'm damn serious about it, too,” she replied before explaining the ins and outs of the deal. Little did I know that in just two years she had worked her way up the ladder at a major company called Double Ace. I even learned she was tight with some of my associates. I had to admit, I was impressed by her new business persona.

“So, what made you think of me for this?” I asked when we were done talking shop. “I thought you hated me!” If she was going to be so direct in her way of speaking, I reasoned, then I would be too.

Lin Ping hesitated for a moment. “Well, just because we didn't make it as a couple doesn't mean we have to be enemies. Besides, Handong, this deal could be a coup for both of us.”

She was right. The medical equipment deal turned out to be a huge success. Everyone benefited, including Lin Ping's colleagues at Double Ace and the leadership of the two hospitals. I made a small fortune as well. But the person who made the most money from the deal was Lin Ping herself.

Seeing this sharp, savvy, and sophisticated side of my ex-wife made me wonder for the first time since our divorce whether it was true what Liu Zheng had said. Maybe leaving Lin Ping had been a mistake after all.

Thirty-Four

The New Year was right around the corner, and even if I'd wanted to weasel out of it, there was nothing I could do. The last night of the year would have to be spent at my mother's house.

Back when Lan Yu and I were still together—really together—I had always spent New Year's Eve at my mother's house until the clock struck midnight. Then I would rush back to Tivoli to be with him. So when the last day of the lunar calendar came I figured I would do the same. But when I spoke with Lan Yu about it, I found out that he had other plans.

“You don't need to come back at midnight,” he said. He was sitting up in bed. “I'm going out with friends. We're renting a hotel room!” He set the newspaper he'd been reading down in his lap.

“Are you kidding me?” I whined as I walked into the bathroom. “What do you want to hang out with those people for?”

I knew exactly who he was talking about. In the two years we had been apart, he had met a group of real jerks in the gay circle. I thought they were nothing but trouble and didn't like it one bit.

“No, it'll be fun! I can't wait.” His voice was barely audible over the splashing sound of my piss hitting the water.

I flushed, and then stood in the doorway of the bathroom to watch Lan Yu as he continued reading in bed. He loved the adventure stories found in the trashy tabloids cluttering Beijing's many news kiosks. I figured he just needed something easy to think about after a hard day's work.

“Hey, Handong!” he called out without looking up at me. He held the paper close to his face and squinted. Then he looked straight at me.

“Why do you think the imperialist aggressors were able to completely annihilate the waterborne forces of the Beiyang Fleet during the Qing dynasty? I mean, I know the Chinese navy had poor equipment in the nineteenth century, and they definitely had bad leadership, but still! Just take military officer Deng Shichang, for example. You know how he—”

“What are you asking me for?” I interrupted as I turned off the bathroom light. “Go ask Li Hongzhang, field commander of the Qing navy, or how about the Empress Dowager Cixi herself?” I jumped into bed.

Lan Yu didn't seem to be listening. “Huh?” He lifted his head from the paper and looked at me.

“It's late,” I said, pulling a blanket over my head and rubbing my feet against his. “Get some sleep.”

On New Year's Eve I drove to my mother's house as always. Fireworks had been banned in Beijing for several years at that point, and an eerie silence hung in the air as my car wheeled into her neighborhood.

I stepped into the house, shouting out greetings to family members old and young. Then I switched off my cell phone and told my mother that if anyone called, I wasn't there. I had one goal and one goal only: to get as much peace and quiet
as I could. I'd even conjured up the naive fantasy of getting to bed early despite the inevitable racket I knew I'd have to contend with. Sure enough, the house was soon buzzing with the harsh bleat of the television, the endless sounds of kids running through the house screaming, and the relentless
tap-tap-tap
of mahjong tiles clicking together. Still, I managed to fall asleep by eleven.

The following morning, I woke up at six and headed back to Gala. Lan Yu wasn't home yet, so I sat on the bed for a while, staring abjectly into space and wondering what he was doing. Just as I was about to give up and leave, I heard a key turn in the front door.

Lan Yu stood in the doorway, struggling to shut the door behind him without dropping the plastic shopping bags dangling precariously from one finger. “Hey!” he said with a big smile. “What are you doing here? Why didn't you call me?” The festive mood of the previous night clung to him as tightly as the black wool cap on his head.

“What did you do last night?” he continued, seemingly unable to detect the funk I was in. “Didn't you go to our Ma's house? I called your cell a million times but you didn't pick up.” He put the bags down and walked toward me to give me a hug.

The icy winter air clung to his hair and clothes, and for a moment he was completely enshrouded in the heavy clouds of smog that always seemed to blanket Beijing on winter mornings. His cheeks were bright red from the steady lash of freezing winds, and a clear, thin crust had formed under his nostrils. He looked at me in happy excitement, as cheerful as a kid on New Year's Day, which is exactly what he was.

“I've been here, waiting for you all night,” I lied, smiling faintly.

Lan Yu blinked with heavy eyes. Was it the wind that had produced those tears, or was he moved by what I had said? I never got an answer, but the next thing I knew, he threw himself into my arms and kissed me.

“Hey, be careful!” I laughed in a loud whisper. “The door is open. I don't want the neighbors to see!”

It was getting harder and harder for me to know what was going on inside Lan Yu's head. Each time our relationship entered a new crisis, he would turn around and surprise me with another expression of intimacy. Was he for real or just playing games? Often I didn't know the answer to this question, but on that one cold winter morning, at least, I felt that he cared about me.

Now that Lan Yu was home, we curled up in bed together and fell asleep. When we awoke, it was past noon and our stomachs were growling. Lan Yu wanted to go out and get something to eat, but I protested on the grounds that no decent restaurant would be open on New Year's Day. Besides, I added, it was cold out and I had a bit of a headache. We stayed in bed and cuddled for a while.

“Hey, speaking of cold,” I said, “when are you going to move out of this place? It's freezing in here! They barely turn the heater on, and look—you can actually see your breath when you talk.” Maybe I was spoiled, but I wasn't exaggerating. It was the middle of winter and his heater was falling to pieces.

“Oh, it's not so bad,” he said, snuggling against my chest. “Besides, this is nothing compared to my old place. I was renting this little apartment behind Huada—you never saw it. There was a radiator in the bedroom, but it was a real piece of garbage. I'd be wearing a down jacket indoors
and
be wrapped
up in a blanket and I was still freezing! That was right after graduation.”

Right after graduation, I thought. That meant “after we broke up.”

“So you moved out of there as soon as you could, right?”

“No,” he smiled. “The rent was so cheap I couldn't bring myself to leave. It was during the time when I didn't have a job and rent was only ninety-five yuan a month.”

When I didn't have a job, I thought. That meant “when I got fired because of the fax.” He was using a lot of euphemisms that day.

“Oh, right,” he continued, evidently remembering something. “The guy who lives in the other room is coming back at the end of March. But guess what? I found a new place! It's over in Fang Village. The only problem is it's really far from work. For me at least. For you, it's pretty close. Just a few minutes from your office.”

“Fang Village? That
is
far from your work!” I said. “It's at least a forty minute drive! How did you find it?”

“Through a friend. You don't know him.”

When Lan Yu and I first got back together, I didn't give two shits whom he spent time with. But as time went by, I developed a strong distaste for these mystery “friends.”

“You can't just say everyone you know is a
friend,
Lan Yu,” I said grumpily. “You need to be careful about who you associate with. There are people out there who would sell you down the river, then turn around and ask you to help them count the money!”

Lan Yu laughed and raised his eyes to look at me. “Well, friends are more reliable than lovers, aren't they?”

That was a shitty thing to say. I looked away to show him I was hurt, but Lan Yu had already gotten out of bed and was
making his way toward the kitchen. “You should try to buy an apartment!” I called after him.

“You've got to be joking!” he hollered back. “Who's going to pay for it—you? By the way, what do you want to eat? There's some stuff in the fridge. I'll make us something.”

“Great!” I yelled, trying to conceal the confused jumble of emotions I felt. Had he just asked me for money? He knew things were different now, both financially and between us. And besides, I had already given him everything I could. What more did he want?

I shut myself up in Lan Yu's apartment for several days after New Year's Eve, hiding from the world and pretty much doing nothing. He did everything he could to cheer me up, but I just couldn't drive away the clouds of darkness hanging over my head.

I had known Lan Yu for eight years at this point. He was completely different from the person I'd first met. It seemed like a lifetime ago. More and more, I found myself lost in daydreams, remembering what he was like on that day so long ago when I first saw him at the Imperial, trailing behind Liu Zheng and looking like a stray puppy. Earnest, shy, submissive—everything about him was transparent in those days. He was different now. Grown-up, yes, but glib, sarcastic, full of insinuations and half-truths. I never knew what he was thinking. He was much less conservative in his lifestyle now, too—in sexual behavior, at least, or so it seemed from the fragments of information he'd given me. A vague foreboding told me that we were going to break up again. But for real this time—forever.

A few days after New Year's, Wei Guo dragged me off to Ming Palace to play cards. I hadn't been there in years.

Some guy named Zhou Wen was going to be meeting us there. I had met him once or twice in the past, but didn't know him well. From what Wei Guo had told me, he had a pretty incredible story.

Zhou Wen was in his midforties and part of the generation of urban youth that got sent to the countryside to live and work during the Cultural Revolution. But Zhou Wen got lucky. He had an uncle who was some kind of local government big shot, so instead of being sent down, he got placed on a municipal Communist Party Committee doing who knows what. When the National College Entrance Examination was reinstated in 1977, he got into Muda University the very first year. After arriving in Beijing from his small town in Hebei Province, however, he saw that the world was a big place and came to feel he should have set his sights on a more prestigious university. After just one semester at Muda, he quietly slipped back to his hometown and took the college exam all over again, but this time using a fake name. The outcome of the illicit strategy was that he got into Tianda University. When Muda found out, they notified the National Education Committee. At that point the charade was up. Tianda had no choice but to kick Zhou Wen out in the middle of his second year.

After that, everything went to shit. Zhou Wen's girlfriend dumped him when she found out he had been kicked out of school. He was deeply in love with her, so he went back to his hometown and tried to kill himself. But that didn't work out either, so he spent the next two years feeling sorry for himself and trying to figure out what to do next. Then his uncle pulled some strings and got him into graduate school at the Trade Institute.

After starting graduate school and immersing himself in the study of money, Zhou Wen became weirdly obsessed with old coins. This “hobby of the kings” was an interest that the
budding numismatist happened to share with Donald Dai—they had met at some business conference—so the finance guru became Zhou Wen's personal mentor and de facto academic advisor while the hatchling worked on his PhD. When Zhou Wen finally finished his dissertation, he was assigned to some government post, then became Donald's personal secretary. Two years ago, Zhou Wen entered the business world and became the vice director of China's largest government-operated company, Light of the Orient. By the time he walked into the Ming that evening with a black leather bag full of cash and smokes under his arm, he was already a real powerhouse.

My depression had gone from bad to worse over the last few days, so although I beat the guys at several rounds of cards, I wasn't really in the mood to hang out. Under the pretext of going to the bathroom, I snuck off to a side room, where I sunk into a huge brown leather couch and tried to watch TV.

“What's wrong, Handong?” Zhou Wen came into the room and handed me a cigarette. “How come you disappeared?”

“Oh, it's nothing,” I lied. “I'm just not playing well today. Things have been real busy since the end of last year. I've been pulling too many overnighters lately, so . . .” My perfunctory excuses weren't very convincing.

Zhou Wen smiled, but it was a weird smile. A smile that told me he suspected I wasn't telling him the whole story, or, perhaps, that he himself wanted to let me in on a secret. Instead, however, he changed the subject. “Hey! I hear you're having trouble with some imported car parts.”

“Man!” I laughed. “Brother Wen has sharp ears!” I looked at his middle-aged face, nearly ten years older than my own. Calling him “brother” instead of “uncle” was more or less a form of flattery, but I needed his help if I was going to get my career back to what it used to be.

“Listen,” I continued plaintively. “I really need your help
with this stuff. You know things haven't been going well for me lately. This whole car deal has only been making things worse.” Zhou Wen knew everyone. He could make things happen, so I spilled my guts to him.

“All right,” he said. “I'll ask around for you, but I can't guarantee anything will come of it.”
I'll ask around.
I knew what this meant. It meant he would pull some strings and make the car deal work.

“Thanks, Brother Wen,” I said. “It's been a hell of a year.”

“No worries,” he said. “If Tripitaka Master Xuanzang and his disciples can make it through the Flaming Mountains unscathed, so can you!” Apparently, I wasn't the only one who liked to reference
Journey to the West.